Undercover Cuckold Read online

  “Don't stop,” she whispered, “just don't stop. You can cum in me if you want, but don't pull out, just keep fucking me, okay? You can keep fucking me.”

  That put him over the edge. Hearing those words pass her lips hit him like a shot of pure sex, and he knew he couldn't hold back.

  But he couldn't do what she asked. He couldn't cum inside her. It was too risky. What if she was fertile? What if she got pregnant? They couldn't afford that, he didn't have the time or money, he couldn't, it just wouldn't be-

  “Oh God!” he groaned, and at the very last moment he pulled himself back, reaching down to yank his cock out of her. It slapped against her smooth belly and exploded in a gush of creamy white cum upon her pale skin.

  She let out a long breath that seemed to him to carry more than a little of a hint of disappointment. He'd fallen short once again. Lost his control, lost his nerve. And he hadn't been able to make her cum.

  How did James do it with those other women?

  He flopped down beside her, his heart thundering in his chest and his lungs screaming for air. His whole body seemed exhausted, totally and completely wrung out.

  He looked over at her after a long silent moment. She was quietly wiping his cum off her lower belly. He felt his heart sink.

  “Sorry, hon... I couldn't hold back anymore.”

  She turned to look at him and she smiled. Her hair was a mess and her cheeks were flushed and her brow sweaty. She'd never looked more beautiful. “It's fine, Scotty. You were amazing. That was really lovely...”

  He grinned. “Trying to up my game a little, I guess.”

  She cocked an eyebrow and shifted her position a little so she was up on one elbow. Her pale breasts jiggled slightly as she moved, her strawberry pink nipples firm and succulent in the moonlight. “Oh are you now? And why's that?” She smirked. “Not feeling... a little jealous, are you?”

  “Hey now... Should I be?”

  She made a face. “Come on, Scott. You know I wouldn't do that to you.”

  “I know. Sorry.”

  “It's okay. This whole thing is so strange. I... can I tell you something without you freaking out about it?”

  He snorted. “I'll do my best.”

  “I mean, the idea of this... Club thing, it's... it's sort of exciting me a little bit?” She blushed and put her hands over her face, turning away from him and hiding her face behind her copper red hair.

  “Oh yeah?” he said, grinning again and nuzzling up against her.

  She nodded shyly, still hiding behind her hair. He could tell she was smiling.

  “You naughty little vixen. You're not falling for him, are you? The dashing black professor who makes all the white wives squeal with pleasure?”

  She squeaked a little laugh. “Scott! Don't!”

  “Seriously, though... are you?”

  “Am I falling for him?”

  “Yeah.”

  She gave him a long look, her green eyes bright in the darkness. “You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?”

  “I know. Is that a yes?”

  “Maybe... a little bit of one? I don't know...”

  He leaned in close and kissed her softly on the forehead. “I love you, honey. No matter what.”

  She caught his face and pulled him gently down so that their mouths met. She kissed him long and slow and deep. “I love you too,” she whispered when their lips had parted. “No matter what.”

  He flopped down and shut his eyes. He needed to get to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be the big day.

  Chapter Seven

  The little window slid open with a rasp. “Yes?”

  Scott cleared his throat. A dark pair of eyes peered out through the slit, taking him in with a coldly dispassionate and judgmental gaze. He tugged nervously at the cuffs of his rented suit. “We'd like to come in,” he said, as confidently as he could manage.

  The man behind the door snorted. “I'm sure you would. Got an invitation?”

  “I do. I was recommended by the Wilsons. The name's Mallory. Luke and Felicia Mallory.” He stepped back and gestured for his wife to come into the light.

  Julie walked a few timid places towards the door, coming into the glow beneath the inauspicious purple awning which was the only marker of the Club's existence from the outside. She looked quite literally breathtaking. Scott felt his throat tighten as he looked at her.

  His wife, he'd always thought, was a fairly simple woman. She was a schoolteacher and hadn't ever been rich. She'd never let on to him of having any dreams of high society life or instincts towards fashion. She tended to dress sensibly, usually in jeans and blouses of the sort considered appropriate for a schoolteacher.

  Tonight, however, she'd outdone herself. He'd almost have said that she looked like a brand new person, but that wasn't true. She looked entirely like herself, like Julie, but in a way he'd never seen before or even imagined.

  She was wearing a dazzling black dress, a tight and clinging little number that hugged her curves so close that he couldn't quite believe it when he looked at her. The dress had an extremely low cut top, and her ample cleavage was on full display, her ripe and gorgeous breasts dusted with freckles. She had on bright red lipstick and smoky eye-shadow, and her copper hair was done up in a complex tease that left her pale neck bare. She wore pearl earrings and a pearl necklace around her neck. They'd been a gift from her grandmother's that she'd never had occasion to wear before.

  Her legs were bare beneath the dress, and when she walked they showed through the long slits, right up to the tops of her thighs. She came towards the door, and her timidness looked sultry and alluring.

  For a long moment, the man behind the door just stared.

  Scott felt his lips curve into a little smile, though his amusement was only a cover for the strange mix of excitement and fear that was swirling inside of him. He had no doubt that she'd be the center of attention when they got in there. All those men would be looking at his wife. In a place like this, they'd start to openly lust after her, imagine her doing all sorts of things...

  Even if nothing happened tonight, it would be real enough in their minds.

  The door man finally spoke up again. “Welcome,” he said, his voice sounding slightly awe-struck. “I see your name is on the list. Please, come in.”

  The door opened with a groan and the two of them stepped quickly in off the street.

  The doorman – not Henry Virgil, this time, but another man who looked cut from a similar cloth – gave them each a slight bow. “Mr. and Mrs. Mallory... allow me to welcome you to the Black and White Club.”

  Julie looked around a bit dubiously at the plain hall. “Is this it?”

  The doorman chuckled. “If you'll come right this way, Ma'am, I'll see you to the Club proper.”

  They started down the hall. Julie reached down to take Scott's hand. She gave it a squeeze. He could feel the nervousness coming off her, the edge of panic. This was way outside her experience, and he knew it. He was nervous himself, and he'd actually been inside the building before – though on an entirely different pretense.

  The nervousness would be alright, though, it might actually help to convince people that they were who they said they were. He couldn't imagine too many people came in here for the first time and weren't overcome with nerves.

  “It's alright, Felicia. Everything's going to be fine. We'll just have a good time,” he said.

  “R-right. Of course, um, Luke. Of course.”

  They entered the lavishly decorated main room of the Club, and Julie gasped in wonder. They stepped inside the scarlet and gold ornamented chamber, and it seemed to Scott that they were walking into another world.

  There were maybe two dozen couples scattered throughout the room, several of them dining or drinking, either alone or in groups or with the company of elegantly dressed black men. The room was alive with a kind of instantly intoxicating exotic energy, a kinetic sexuality that seemed the thrum and vibrate in the very air.

  He
felt himself immediately stiffening, in more ways than one.

  Scott and Julie looked at one another for a moment. She looked a bit like a deer in headlights. He took her by the arm. “Come on,” he said, “shall we take a seat? Maybe get something to drink.”

  “I don't know about this, Luke,” she murmured, still fumbling over his false name.

  “Remember,” he said in a low voice by her ear, “the worst thing that can happen is they'll throw us out. Just try to relax and have fun. Think of it as a game. We know something that none of them do, and that's power. Use it.”

  She swallowed. “Okay.”

  “Have I mentioned that you looked absolutely stunning, by the way?”

  She smiled, her red lips curving slowly. “You might have said it once or twice in the car ride over.”

  “Well, you are.”

  “Thank you.”

  “These guys here are going to be all over you,” he said, and gave her a little nudge.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I'm serious.”

  “I'm sure I'm nothing special to them.”

  “You just wait and see, you'll have 'em lining up around the block.”

  A man in a crisp waiter's uniform approached them. “What may we do for you tonight, sir, madam?”

  “Ah...” Scott made a show of thinking on it, “Hm, you want something to drink, Felicia?” he turned to his wife, “Wine? A red, perhaps.” On the inside he was already wincing at the bill. They could hardly afford cheap white from the store now, much less something like this. Still, they had to act that part.

  The waiter nodded and pointed to a table a little ways away. “Please do take a seat. I'll bring you the wine menu. Would madam perhaps be interested speaking with another gentleman? I can arrange a meeting, if you like.”

  Scott grinned tightly. “Thanks, but just the wine for now. We're going to feel out the place a bit before we dive right into that, you know?”

  “Of course, sir. Just a moment.”

  They sat, and Julie let out a slow breath. “Well then... a wine list and a lover. They do everything here, don't they?”

  Scott laughed. “Full service kind of place.” They wouldn't be needing any meetings arranged tonight, however. They already had a plan in motion.

  Just then, right on schedule, James Cain came walking into the room from upstairs. He adjusted his necktie and scanned the room. He looked huge and powerful. In this place, his element, Scott supposed, he seemed positively to radiate sexual energy. He saw Julie, and his face softened. He looked at her, and Scott could almost believe that he really did love her.

  Perhaps he did...

  James started walking across the room, making his way slowly towards them while strains of classical music drifted on the warm air.

  Scott found himself wishing that he'd already had a couple glasses of wine. Or maybe something a bit stiffer, even. He looked at Julie, that picture of sensual innocence and passion, and he looked at James – powerful and masculine and sexual.

  The idea was that James was going to pretend to seduce Julie, freeing Scott up to poke around and talk to people. He was sort of starting to regret the plan now, however.

  At the moment, he couldn't help but wonder how hard his wife was going to have to pretend to be seduced. Might she just… actually be seduced? It was a dangerous game to play.

  Too late to turn back now, though. It was time.

  Chapter Eight

  “She yours?”

  Scott glanced over. There was a man sitting nearby with his arm draped over the back of his chair, leaning towards Scott with a cigarette in one hand and a half-empty glass of wine in the other. Blue curls of smoke rose towards the golden ceiling.

  “Yeah,” Scott said, “she's mine.”

  “For now, right? Looks like you've some competition.”

  “Well...” Scott said, turning to face the man and forcing himself to flash a grin, “that's what we're here for, isn't it?”

  “Ta,” the man said, and lifted his glass. Scott clanked own gently against it. The two of them turned and watched the scene playing out across the room.

  Julie and James sat together in the corner of the room, talking in low voices. They were sitting very close together, and James' arm was draped across Julie's bare shoulders, his hand moving across the naked skin of her upper arm, caressing her gently as he spoke almost right in her ear.

  She was smiling and giggling, snuggling up against him quite comfortably.

  Come on now, no need to go overboard, you two. It's just an act, remember? But of course it was a good deal more. You couldn't fake that kind of chemistry. What was James saying to her? On second thought, Scott wasn't sure he actually wanted to know.

  “It's a beautiful thing,” the man said, and shifted in his seat so that he was facing Scott more directly. He was a slightly heavyset man in an expensive but rumpled suit. His mouse-brown hair kept falling back over his forehead to matter how often he pushed it back. His pink skin was splotchy and sweaty, but he had a casual sort of friendliness about him.

  Scott immediately identified him as just the sort of man he'd come in here looking for. Somebody who wanted to talk, wanted to ingratiate himself. Wanted to make friends. Just the right sort of person to get information out of.

  Scott leaned over and held his hand out. “Luke Mallory.”

  The man smiled and gripped his hand to give it a weak shake. “John Stevens. First timer?”

  “Yeah. That easy to tell?” he said, and laughed nervously.

  John Stevens chuckled. “I can always spot 'em. Welcome to the Club, Luke.”

  “You been here long?”

  He laughed again. He had a good laugh, open and guileless. “What, just tonight?” He made a show of looking at his watch.

  Scott snorted. “No, not tonight. I mean-”

  “I know what you meant,” John cut him off. “Been... oh, six or seven years now. Guess that makes me an old-timer.”

  “And... do you have a... um, you know,”

  “A wife?” John's smiled widened, his eye twinkling. “I do indeed, though I'm afraid the fair lady is occupied at the moment. My darling Alice...”

  “Oh. Right.”

  John Stevens sat back and took a long slow sip of his wine. “I remember my first time with absolute crystal clarity. It's just... burned in, right here,” he jabbed a finger at his temple. “That night changed everything. When I think about it, it's just right there. So real I could reach out and touch it. God it was a thrill. Sometimes I think that everything over these last half a dozen years has just been us trying to recapture that feeling.”

  “How... does it feel? I mean, really? I'm into it, of course, at least the idea of it but...”

  “Now that you're here, you're not quite so sure,” John said, nodding sagely. “First timer jitters. I know exactly how you're feeling right now. I know just what you're thinking.”

  I very much doubt that.

  John Stevens drained the last of his wine and scooted his chair closer. He looked Scott square in the eye. “You're thinking, Oh God, she's going to leave me. She's going to hop on that big black dick, and she going to realize that I'm inferior. I can't compete. I'm not man enough.”

  Scott struggled to keep a straight face. He couldn't entirely keep the wine glass in his hand from shaking.

  “You're thinking that, if you let her indulge her fantasies, it's going to leave you high and dry. Am I right? We've all been there, you can admit it.”

  “Well... something like that might have crossed my mind,” he mumbled.

  John reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Crossed it? More like set up a marching band and started running a parade over your brain. It's the only think you've been able to think about, I bet. But you still came. You want it bad enough that you're willing to take the chance. And that's courage. That's manly right there.” He pointed at Scott and gave him a meaningful look.

  Across the room James was leaning in close; it
almost seemed like his lips were brushing against Julie's cheek.

  “Here's the truth, though, my friend. You go ahead with this, it's going to be nothing but golden for you. Women don't work like we do, that's something I've realized. The more room you give her to wander, the tighter she's going to hang onto you when she comes back. You let her have a black man; she'll love you for it. And she'll fuck you for it.”

  Scott cocked his head to one side, questioningly.

  John smiled, licking his lips slowly. “Let me ask you a question, Luke. In the time you guys... planned this all out,” he made a circular gesture with his finger, “have you noticed a change in her? Sexually, I mean.”

  Scott shrugged, feeling genuinely uncomfortable. He was no longer sure to what extent he was playing a character and what was really him. It was all mixed together in his brain and swirling around.

  “She's gotten frisky, hasn't she? Won't leave you alone, practically? And she's been trying things that she's never done before. Am I right?”

  Scott had to admit to him that he was.

  “And that's not going to stop. On the contrary. You are opening yourself up to a whole new world of erotic possibilities, my friend. Just you wait and see.”

  Scott sat back. “Huh,” was his only response after a long moment of pregnant silence.

  John Stevens poured himself another large glass of expensive wine.

  “Listen...” Scott said, trying to sound as casual as he could, “I was talking to another guy about this. A member of the club, actually...”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “That's right. I forget his name... P.B. were the initials, I think... He was saying something similar to me. It was kind of what made me decide to give it a try.”

  John frowned. “P.B.? Huh...”

  “Know who that might be? I wanted to try and look him up, talk a little more. He seemed to have a handle on all this.”

  “I mean... nah, it couldn't be.”